PAIRING QUESTION. FrUK or USUK? Leave your answer in the comments along with tips. Also I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise - I may wish that I do but I do not. However, I do own Hetalia! Okay... Just kidding. I don't really. Also, for all of you non-Brits out there, to end a letter/email with regards usually means that they are kind of cross with you, leaving you to wonder what on earth you did wrong. Sorry for the short chappie, I am kind of busy as at the moment my family and I are collecting honey from our bees.

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Now, the story...

Alfred, you bloody wanker!

How could you not tell me that Francey-pants and Norway were coming to Hogwarts? I WILL NOT HAVE THAT PERVERT IN MY SCHOOL! Also, thanks to him, I made a fool of myself in front of the entire faculty. I fainted. FAINTED! If you were here now you would be running around the room covered in giant throbbing- actually let's not go there… Also, yesterday, all of the staff were forced to write our names on slips of paper and put them in the 'Goblet of Fire'. I know it sounds sadistic but I'm looking forward to the tournament, it should be a laugh, I guess.

France is being his usual self. I don't know why he's here. He has less magic than you do, and that's saying something. He can't cast a spell to save his life! I know this is stereotypical of me but I hate the French. They are cheesy and smell of garlic. Also, the 'language of love' sound like they are making up words. You never can be sure with a Frenchman, especially Francis Bonnefoy…

Anyway, I would say "I wish you were here…" but frankly after that slip-up I don't. You said I'd get some peace and quiet, some time to rest! You also said that you would keep other countries out.

Kind of irritated at the moment…

Regards,

Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur tied the red howler to Lancelot's leg. He smiled vindictively as the bird set off into the darkening sky and then shut the window with a click of his fingers. Then he sighed. Try as he might, he could not get this night's event out of his head. Tonight the names of the champions would be picked out of the Goblet of Fire. Small potatoes compared to much of what he had faced but still, none of the teachers were looking forward to it.

He checked his fob watch. Almost five. Arthur scowled in displeasure as he remembered that tonight he was to sit next to France. Why did the seating plan have to work out like that? He suspected Snape was involved. The potions master didn't seem to like him that much. Actually, that was probably due to the country's dislike of the students in Snape's own house, Slytherin.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was the second feast in two days, Arthur didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, he simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. Francis chatted away gaily to England, who poked the lovely ENGLISH food with his fork and watched as Dumbledore struck up a long-winded conversation with Madame Maxime, to everyone's consternation.

"And zat is why ze French will win every battle zey ever enter, because zey are still ze supreme country. Is zat not correct, Angleterre?"

"Shut it, Frog. I think that Dumbledore has finished."

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. France smirked at the nervous faces around him and Norway seemed remarkably unmoved by the spectacle.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

Soon it would be over. The thought was on everyone's minds. Soon they would know…

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly black. Sparks began to fly from it.

Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"Representing the students of Durmstrang." He said in a loud, clear voice, "Is Viktor Krum."

Krum stood up, to tumultuous applause and whistles and then slouched off into the room behind the Great Hall.

The Goblet of Fire turned black again, and another singed slip shot into the air, where it fell gracefully to the floor. Dumbledore picked it up and spoke again.

"The teacher representing Durmstrang," He looked to the staff table. "Is Igor Karkaroff."

Clapping again.

The Goblet turned blue now and a piece of elegant paper wafted over to Dumbledore.

"The student champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Almost immediately another piece of paper joined Fleur's.

"And the teacher who will be competing is… Madame Maxime!"

When Fleur Delacour and her teacher too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champions next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red now; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwart's student…" He read out, "Is Harry Potter."

Silence filled the hall. No one moved. No one clapped. Then the buzzing of whispers started.

"He's too young."

"How'd he get his name in?"

"Where is he?"

"OMG, attention seeking Potter. Wait until my Father hears about this."

Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Arthur saw the poor kid walk up, completely shell-shocked. How did he get entered? It was obviously not his idea, he looked like he was about to faint.

"Well... through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

Harry Potter walked up to the back of the hall and slipped through the door, closing it with a quiet but audible click.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more and Dumbledore grabbed the parchment, obviously wishing to end the assembly as quickly as possible.

"The Hogwarts teacher is… Arthur Kirkland."

There was a thud as Arthur dropped his head to the desk.

"Jesus Christ."